Beauty of the Beast
by Diabolical Kitsutora
Summary: Beauty and the Beast Princess Tutu style! Nacht (Fakir as the Beast) has decided he is going to let Ahiru go, but before he does, he wants one thing: a pas de deux to remember her by. This only covers a small portion of Disney's version of Beauty and the Beast.


Okay, so this was a request from a friend of mine on deviant Art. I had mentioned to her that I saw a comic strip of scenes from Beauty and the Beast except it was Princess Tutu style. I also mentioned I would love to write that into a fic and she suggested that I do just that.

Well... here it is now! Please let me know if I should change the name I use for Fakir (I figured, not his true form so use the common name people use for Raven Fakir.) Also, I would love feedback from people, to know what I did right, what I did wrong, and if you would like me to write out the rest of the movie, PT style.

* * *

Beauty of the Beast

Characters:

Beast – (Nacht) Fakir

Belle – Ahiru

Maurice – Charon

Lumiere – Femio

Cogsworth – Autor

Mrs. Potts – Edel

Chip – Uzura

The Wardrobe – Pique

Ahiru was an enigma to him; Nacht found that he could not understand her motives. She was a far cry from comfortable when she first traded her freedom for her father's. But now, she walked and danced horribly about as if she owned the place. And his bad temper no longer affected her, other than an utterance of, 'you're so grumpy.' The strangest part was that he found it didn't bother him.

It should; the castle was his domain, not her playground.

It didn't because her bright and cheerful nature made his world a little less gloomy and dark: A little less lonely.

Not that he would ever admit such a thing. Even with that infuriating candelabra, Femio, hounding him about being true to his feelings, he would never admit how happy the klutzy redhead had made him. He couldn't do that to her. To burden her with a beasts' emotions would be akin to caging an animal; sentencing it to death.

She deserved to spread her wings and be free. So despite the protests of his household, he would do it tonight. He would set her free.

There was just one thing-one thing he selfishly wanted to grasp. A memory: a memory of a dance with her. One memory to accompany him as he faded into the shadows of obscurity, left alone to wither and die, unknown to the outside world.

Nacht knew it was horribly selfish of him, but he wanted to know, had to have that memory of what a pas de deux would be like with her.

Gazing out over his balcony, he covered his face with his paws. How had he come this far? Yet he knew it was still not enough. It would never be enough because he could never ask for her love. Nor could he push his tainted love unto her. But it wouldn't be too selfish if he only asked for a dance, would it? Despite Femio and Autor's assurance that he could safely tell her what he felt, he thought it too much.

He'd already taken too much, already asked too much. He couldn't -_wouldn't- _expect anything more from her.

The sorceress all those years ago simply gave a more appropriate form to the fiend he'd always been. Turning to look into his room, his green gaze fell unto the rose. He watched its ethereal petals slowly withering, dying, and falling from the stem. It was what he deserved, this bestial life.

"Let my time run out," he murmured to himself, "it is no less than I deserve."

Of course his only other regret was that his servants could never leave. He hadn't left his castle in years, but he was certain a talking clock or candelabra would be destroyed before the poor fools could even explain.

No, that wasn't right, they were not the fools: he was. Sighing, he turned away from the magical, wilting rose and left his room. He would find Ahiru and ask if she would accompany him for a dinner and a dance afterward. Perhaps it was cruel of him to ask; he knew she wouldn't say no, even if he irrationally feared she would. It was her right to say no; in a way, he hoped she would refuse, so he could douse the hope he felt building, uninvited in his chest.

~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~

Ahiru was predictably in the practice room Nacht allowed her to use at her convenience. She knew she wasn't very good at ballet, but she did try her best. There was no vision of grandeur from her; she never dreamed she could reach the level of prima ballerina. Before meeting Nacht, even then she knew she didn't have the talent for that. Even if she practiced until her toes bled and broke-well, she could always dream about being one, even if it wasn't realistic.

At the very least, she hoped to be able to dance without looking like an ungraceful duck.

Autor was still at the piano, playing a classical melody for her to dance to. Mind wandering, she began to wonder how he was still able to play, even though as a clock, he had no fingers.

A screech of notes brought Ahiru back to focus, "pay attention!" Author commanded at her.

"Sorry Autor. I won't lose focus again, I promise!"

The burly clock gave her a sneer, not believing that she could hold her focus.

Her concentration held despite the many mistakes in form she made. However, Autor was impressed that she only snapped back to reality when the Master began clapping.

"Your form is still deplorable," he said, a smirk on his beastly face.

Her cheeks went red and she puffed them in indignation, "I'm working on it."

Averting his eyes, Nacht scratched the back of his neck rather sheepishly, "ah, that is, I meant to say; you are improving."

Eyes widening in surprise, Ahiru's cheeks deflated and her expression softened as she smiled, "thanks." She fidgeted a bit, "um, I should probably go clean up."

"Uh… oh, yes, alright." He cleared his throat, "before you, uh, go—I was wondering if… if you'd like to have din—" he coughed to clear his throat, "dinner. With me. Tonight." If a blush could surface on his face, it would have been crimson.

For a moment, she didn't react and he truly feared she would decline. However, a breathtaking smile broke out across her face, "of course, I would really like that." And she really meant what she said; despite rough beginnings when she first arrived, Nacht had shown that he was truly kind.

"Good! I mean, that's great, I will have Edel help you prepare for tonight."

Ahiru positively beamed as she nodded, "I will see you tonight then!" and then she scampered off to go clean up, her cheery mood lifting his, giving him hope for the night.

Autor watched silently from the piano as his Master left with lifted spirits. Adjusting the glasses on his clock face, his eyes narrowed in apprehension. He wanted the night to go off without a hitch, but a feeling of dread filled him.

Something would go wrong, he was certain of it.

~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~

Nacht didn't see her until dinner that night. The reserved tea pot had decided he could not see her until then. He vaguely remembered her saying something about being surprised. The context of her words was lost on him, but he wasn't going to argue.

Arguing with Edel usually got him nowhere but frustrated. And she still came out on top.

The only one who ever got the better of her was Ahiru, and that was only because she took Edel's words in stride. It wasn't that she didn't understand what Edel was saying, it just took her a moment to sort it and put it into context for herself.

That and he knew the tea pot had a soft spot for the young dancer.

"Finally a reason to tame that unruly mane of yours, sire," Femio's words brought Nacht out of his thoughts.

When he finally took a good look at the style Femio gave him, he glared, baring his fangs at the candelabra, "what _is_ this?"

"Why sire, it is a vintage French style. You look so dashing, don't you think?"

"I look like a poodle," he snarked.

"Don't you like it?" Femio looked at him through the mirror, "don't you want to look good for your lady companion?"

His eyes narrowed, "this just feels… odd. I want her to regard me seriously. I look stupid and I'm certain it will only cause her to laugh."

Throwing up his candled hands, Femio huffed, "fine, we'll stick with that sloppy ponytail you so prefer. Honestly sire, you have no sense of style."

His furry brow raised, "and you've no sense of propriety."

At his words, the candelabra chuckled nervously, "how about I put a _small_, elegant twist to your usual style." Femio didn't waste a second when he did not receive a negative comment.

True to his word, Femio put his mane back into his usual ponytail, but added a bow and a slight curl to it. It wasn't outlandish like his servant, so Nacht was happy enough with it.

Standing, he gazed at himself, still feeling uncertain and out of place in his fine dress cloths. "Perhaps I should call it off…"

Femio noticed his Master's uncertain took and so jumped onto the vanity.

"You look dashing, sire, she won't be able to take her eyes off of you."

He hadn't the words to say it, but his expression said it all: he was out of his element.

"Just remember to smile. Pull out her chair, give her compliments, and profess your undying love for her!"

The last part made Nacht glare, (that wasn't the point of the evening he planned,) but his words otherwise calmed him. She had chosen to spend her days with him before, so he must have done something right. With Femio's advice, he'd be… well, if he followed it the way Femio meant for him to do so she'd probably run in fear.

Taking a cleansing breath, he pushed away the thoughts. Smile. Chair. Compliment. He could do that.

The rest of the evening before dinner passed quickly. The closer the clock ticked towards their date, the more agitated he felt. He wasn't ready!

When only a few minutes remained, he walked into the dining hall and inspected the food. Everything looked wonderful; the food smelled and looked divine, the table for two looked inviting, and the room was set to a soft, intimate, but still comfortable and friendly atmosphere.

Eyes roaming over everything once more, he breathed in his nerves and released it with a sigh. Walking towards the window, he clasped a hand behind his back, the other resting on the frame of the window. The night looked calm and peaceful, a far cry from the tumultuous emotions within his heart.

~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~

Ahiru couldn't remember a time she had been _this_ nervous. Sure she'd been sad, weary, and nervous when she had first arrived, but she hadn't known the occupants of the mansion. Everything was unknown and now she knew (because she understood that people hid their true selves,) the crazy inhabitants. Ahiru understood they were all individuals and that they all had different aspirations and dreams.

Out of them all, Nacht was the one who hid most. Her nervous fidgeting stopped as she thought about her grumpy host. She began to frown as she thought about him. He hadn't revealed a lot, but she understood better why he was the way he was. He was afraid to open up, to declare someone important to him.

"Ahiru, a frown is not befitting of you, especially dressed as elegantly as you are." Edel's voice brought her out of her thoughts.

"What does 'befitting' mean, 'zura?" The child teacup questioned.

Edel gave the little girl a sidelong glance, "it means a frown does not go well with her." Her gaze returned to the young woman, "our Master is a complex young man, but I am certain you will find the key to unlocking his secrets."

Smiling kindly at the teapot, she nodded, "it's not that I'm worried about his secrets, he'll tell me when he's ready. I'm just worried he'll push me away."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Pique, the wardrobe said confidently, "he asked you to dinner, didn't he? He's doing what he can to be open. Just be patient."

Laughing nervously, Ahiru scratched the back of her head, "uh, well, I have problems with that sometimes. Especially when there is something I can do."

"Then you have nothing to worry about," Pique chimed, "just be yourself and the Master won't be able to help but come out of his furry shell, right?"

"Just remember that he is a brash individual. What he says in the heat of emotion is not necessarily what he means," reminded Edel.

"Oh, I'm used to that by now, Miss Edel," Ahiru assured, "we tend to argue until he says what he really means."

Pique frowned, "that doesn't sound like a good strategy."

Ahiru shrugged, "he can be a jerk," as if that justified their arguments.

The wardrobe laughed while the teapot only smiled her reserved smile. Uzura, the teacup, looked from one adult to another, trying to decipher the conversation.

Giggling in her childish way, she hopped about and cheered, "I don't get it, 'zura!"

~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~ ~;-'-;~

The clock near the grand staircase struck loud and long, signaling that dinner was ready. Ahiru and Nacht both stepped out onto their respective landings, gazing at each other from opposite sides of the staircase. She looked ravishing in her pale blue ball gown; the sleeves rested on her upper arms, the bodice was rather form fitting but bloomed into the shape of a bell that swayed with her movements. Her hair was mostly down, the crown of her hair in a small bun, the end of it trailing down her back in soft, delicate waves. The style and colors really brought out the depth of color in her eyes, and the fire of her hair.

Ahiru's cheeks colored as she gazed at her companion from across the way. He looked dashing and refined in his suit. The black pants were slimming, and the white shirt gave definition to his furry torso. The intentionally baggy sleeves and the ruffled neckpiece lent him an air of sophistication.

Each descended the stairs at the same time, meeting at the middle where he offered his arm. A warm, gentle smile played on her lips, and the gaze she held on him warmed his heart and encouraged him.

Nacht smiled gently, keeping how pleased he truly was to himself. The night was already shaping up perfectly, better, actually.

Leading her to the dining hall, he walked her up to her seat. Pulling it out, he waited for her to sit before he pushed her towards the table, seating himself after. It was strange for Nacht, as they ate in companionable silence; he had never experienced such emotions before. He had lost his parents at such a young age; he'd grown so spoiled and rotten… and then this girl, this young woman… Nacht's heart warmed and his palms tingled until they itched. She made him _feel_. Not just different, she made him feel in general.

Speaking their thanks for the meal, both dove right in. While eating his soup, Nacht was careful not to allow his neck ruffle slip into it. For a moment, Ahiru watched him making the effort to eat properly, though it was difficult for him to do. It wasn't that he was unable to be proper; but his form, his claws, and large paws made it difficult for him to properly use cutlery.

Smiling, she began on her own meal. After three courses of food, Ahiru got up from her chair and walked over to her companion, reaching for his paw. He took her hand and followed without question.

She led them to the ball room, Nacht opening the grand doors for them. Once inside, she walked off to the side and reached her hands up and back, messing with the back of her dress. Before Nacht could say anything or be embarrassed about her disrobing, the dress fell and revealed much lighter attire. The dress itself was a short, transparent fabric, under which she wore a soft, pale blue leotard. On her feet, he noticed, were blue toe shoes.

Walking to the middle of the room, she rolled her hands above her head then extended one to him; an invitation to dance. Nacht was hesitant at first; in his youth before and even after his transformation he'd been a wonderful dancer, but he eventually stopped.

It had been more than eight years since he last danced. But this had been his idea, and she was willing, eager, it seemed, to share a dance with him.

Eventually accepting her invitation, he extended his paw, grasping her hand in a standard pose for first position of a pas de deux. She smiled and adjusted his position a little. Nacht noted that although he could spot her mistakes a mile away, he'd forgotten what his own felt like.

Easily accepting her correction, they slid into their dance, warmth and love swelling in their hearts. The longer they danced, the more his technique and skill came back to him. Eventually Nacht did not need any cues on what to do and the two danced effortlessly and gracefully.

The servants of the household watched their performance. There were flaws and missteps, but it was filled with love and emotion. To those who looked, it wasn't perfect, but it was beautiful.

Neither knew for how long they continued their dance, but Nacht eventually slowed them to a stop. Sighing in content, Ahiru rested her body against his, her head coming to rest on his chest. Nacht's pride and happiness swelled. Not only was she unafraid of him, but she was also comfortable enough to rest against him. For a moment, he considered telling her _why_ he was freeing her from her imprisonment.

"Ahiru, there is something I would like to say," his voice was soft, uncertain.

"Yes?" she inquired, curious.

He looked around, his eyes landing on the doors to the balcony, "not here." He led her by the hands outside, wanting the refreshing air outside to help the mood.

He also wanted to escape the prying eyes of his servants.

They walked over to the railing which doubled as seating. It was dark but the night sky was beautiful. Stars twinkled merrily and the moon shown brilliantly. Ahiru looked up into the shadowy expanse, the stars reflected in her gaze. She was breath taking in her beauty; Nacht felt his nerves twitching. He was afraid to bare himself so vulnerable in front of her, but he'd thought it before.

_She was worth it._

A gentle breeze passed by them and Ahiru closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling against her face. "It's so beautiful out tonight," she stated.

"I agree," he spoke softly. Gently taking her hand, he guided her to sit on the railing, and when she looked comfortable, he sat next to her.

He was about to speak again when her face fell for a moment. It was only a moment, but he'd known her long enough to tell something was wrong.

"Is something wrong, Ahiru?"

Her body tensed immediately and she forced a brighter smile on her face, "no, nothing is wrong, Nacht! Why do you ask?"

His own expression fell, "I can see that you are forcing your smile. Did I do something to upset you, Ahiru? Are you unhappy here?"

With that she gave up all pretenses, "no, that's not it…" she began, "I love it here, but…"

"But," he coaxed.

"I miss my dad, that's all. I didn't get to tell him goodbye, and I'll never see him again."

An immense sense of guilt threatened to overwhelm him. He'd labeled her prisoner because he didn't want her to escape and bring the whole countryside to his castle. He knew better now, but then he became afraid that he'd allow her to leave and she'd never come back.

He was still afraid, unable to believe and trust in his love and what love she may hold for him.

"There's a way," he began, clearing his throat, he continued, "There is a way you can see your father again." He was going to release her, she would see him again that way, but he figured he could allow her to see how he was doing at that moment.

From behind him, he produced an elegant, silver, hand mirror. "This mirror is enchanted. Speak aloud to it what you want to see and it will show it to you."

"No matter what," she questioned.

"No matter what," he confirmed.

He held it out to her and she reached for it, grabbing the handle with both hands as if afraid she would drop and break it.

In an unsure voice, she said, "I would like to see my dad… please." She tacked it on, not sure if the seemingly inanimate object was truly inanimate.

The mirror gave off an explosion of bright green light, the object oozing it like a visible aura. The glassy surface showed an older man; he was passed out on the ground, his cloak billowing wildly in the wind.

"Dad," she breathed a small gasp, "Nacht, this is terrible! I can't tell if he's sick or hurt. He could be dying!" She stood and paced, "I have to do something. I have to help him—"

"Go."

The redheaded woman stopped and stared, "what?"

"Go to your father, Ahiru. I no long hold you here as prisoner."

His heart stopped; he swore he could feel that it had. The moment the words left her mouth, he knew his only recourse was to let her go with the omission of why. Realizing it was like a thousand knives gutting him while he remained conscious, but to see her grieving over not knowing the fate of her father?

He could no more do that to her than he could break his curse on his own.

"Nacht, Nacht! Are you sure?" Her voice brought his attention back to her.

"Yes," he said simply. "Go," she went to hand the mirror back to him but he held his hands up to stop her, "no, please keep it. Let it be a reminder of myself and this place."

She held the glowing object to her chest and gazed uncertainly at him, "Nacht, I… thank you," his expression fell and he bowed his head. Stepping towards him, she caressed his cheek, his eyes meeting hers at the contact, "thank you, Nacht."

There was only a moment that indecision filled her eyes. But in a second it was gone and she turned, running inside: running out of his life, forever.


End file.
